Yes, Valentine's Day was five days before I wrote the post below.
I actually had a great Valentine's Day, since Jesus is the Lover of my soul. And seeing as I forgot to spread the love to my friends, Family, and readers, let me say that I love you guys and I hope you'll agree with me that peanut butter blows.
I never got around to writing about the last fellowship I went to. And I won't write about it, because I forgot about it, it's not that interesting, and because Nats already took the time to describe the irrelevant details.
I'll just let you all know that I am the Bowling King, and the devil won't get me next time.
The 23rd of this month, my mom will be giving birth to a baby boy, and rowdy boys will rule this family. Please keep her and my soon-to-be brother in your prayers.
I swear, it's a baby invasion. It seems all my friends and everyone I know is getting pregnant. No, that's not the biblical "know".
I think I offended the Japanese. I used to get so many hits from Japan, but ever since I ceased to appear on The Crooked's link list, hits from Japan are about as rare as an honest politician.
21 February 2006
19 February 2006
Chocolate Blows 5:46 PM
Valentine's Day.
Humbug.
It's unnecessary, since I celebrate love 365 days a year, and 366 every leap year.
Valentine's Day is an excuse for my family to rent sappy movies about "love". This time it was Elizabethtown, and it starred Orlando Bloom and Kirsten Dunst. I never thought I'd find the sight of a woman clad in panties and a tight tee to be a turn off, but Kirsten Dunst proved me wrong. I pity the woman, Dunst is a horrible last name. But so is Bloom.
Elizabethtown started off real nice. Orlando Bloom was going to kill himself, my popcorn bowl was almost empty, and no one was sobbing. But then Orlando Bloom's character gets a phone call from his sister, and the movie goes from crappy to sappy.
I have a great idea. The movie should be remade so that Orlando Bloom boards the plane and meets Kirsten Dunst, but then a terrorist hijacks the plane and crashes it into Elizabethtown. I'll call it "The Tragic Five Minute Film of Two Actors with Pathetic Last Names who Can't Act if it Were To Save Their Lives".
It's not that I hate love stories. It's just that there are way-too-many of them. There are billions of people in the world today, most of whom have their personal love story. And that's not counting the billions of people who have lived. Plus all the sappy love movies Hollywood torments me with.
Speaking of love stories, yesterday I watched The Notebook. My family told me it was a great movie, so giving them the benefit of the doubt, I sat down. That night, I refused to sleep in my warm bed, wear my comfy pajamas, and cuddle my teddy bear. Instead, I chose to sleep on the living room couch in my t-shirt and boxers, just to be sure I wasn't losing any of my manly qualities after being exposed to sweet mush like that. As a precautionary measure, I also scratched my butt at random intervals and trained myself to drool on my soft pillow while I slept. Wait, did I say pillow? I meant armrest.
I don't like chocolate. As a child, I used to hurl if I ever ate more than a tiny bit. I don't eat my birthday cakes if the main flavor is chocolate. I only eat chocolate when I'm depressed. Which is never.
Romantics worldwide hope I choke and die at night because I refused to bow down and worship their sacred day and romantic classics.
Humbug.
It's unnecessary, since I celebrate love 365 days a year, and 366 every leap year.
Valentine's Day is an excuse for my family to rent sappy movies about "love". This time it was Elizabethtown, and it starred Orlando Bloom and Kirsten Dunst. I never thought I'd find the sight of a woman clad in panties and a tight tee to be a turn off, but Kirsten Dunst proved me wrong. I pity the woman, Dunst is a horrible last name. But so is Bloom.
Elizabethtown started off real nice. Orlando Bloom was going to kill himself, my popcorn bowl was almost empty, and no one was sobbing. But then Orlando Bloom's character gets a phone call from his sister, and the movie goes from crappy to sappy.
I have a great idea. The movie should be remade so that Orlando Bloom boards the plane and meets Kirsten Dunst, but then a terrorist hijacks the plane and crashes it into Elizabethtown. I'll call it "The Tragic Five Minute Film of Two Actors with Pathetic Last Names who Can't Act if it Were To Save Their Lives".
It's not that I hate love stories. It's just that there are way-too-many of them. There are billions of people in the world today, most of whom have their personal love story. And that's not counting the billions of people who have lived. Plus all the sappy love movies Hollywood torments me with.
Speaking of love stories, yesterday I watched The Notebook. My family told me it was a great movie, so giving them the benefit of the doubt, I sat down. That night, I refused to sleep in my warm bed, wear my comfy pajamas, and cuddle my teddy bear. Instead, I chose to sleep on the living room couch in my t-shirt and boxers, just to be sure I wasn't losing any of my manly qualities after being exposed to sweet mush like that. As a precautionary measure, I also scratched my butt at random intervals and trained myself to drool on my soft pillow while I slept. Wait, did I say pillow? I meant armrest.
I don't like chocolate. As a child, I used to hurl if I ever ate more than a tiny bit. I don't eat my birthday cakes if the main flavor is chocolate. I only eat chocolate when I'm depressed. Which is never.
Romantics worldwide hope I choke and die at night because I refused to bow down and worship their sacred day and romantic classics.
Chocolate Blows 5:46 PM
Valentine's Day.
Humbug.
It's unnecessary, since I celebrate love 365 days a year, and 366 every leap year.
Valentine's Day is an excuse for my family to rent sappy movies about "love". This time it was Elizabethtown, and it starred Orlando Bloom and Kirsten Dunst. I never thought I'd find the sight of a woman clad in panties and a tight tee to be a turn off, but Kirsten Dunst proved me wrong. I pity the woman, Dunst is a horrible last name. But so is Bloom.
Elizabethtown started off real nice. Orlando Bloom was going to kill himself, my popcorn bowl was almost empty, and no one was sobbing. But then Orlando Bloom's character gets a phone call from his sister, and the movie goes from crappy to sappy.
I have a great idea. The movie should be remade so that Orlando Bloom boards the plane and meets Kirsten Dunst, but then a terrorist hijacks the plane and crashes it into Elizabethtown. I'll call it "The Tragic Five Minute Film of Two Actors with Pathetic Last Names who Can't Act if it Were To Save Their Lives".
It's not that I hate love stories. It's just that there are way-too-many of them. There are billions of people in the world today, most of whom have their personal love story. And that's not counting the billions of people who have lived. Plus all the sappy love movies Hollywood torments me with.
Speaking of love stories, yesterday I watched The Notebook. My family told me it was a great movie, so giving them the benefit of the doubt, I sat down. That night, I refused to sleep in my warm bed, wear my comfy pajamas, and cuddle my teddy bear. Instead, I chose to sleep on the living room couch in my t-shirt and boxers, just to be sure I wasn't losing any of my manly qualities after being exposed to sweet mush like that. As a precautionary measure, I also scratched my butt at random intervals and trained myself to drool on my soft pillow while I slept. Wait, did I say pillow? I meant armrest.
I don't like chocolate. As a child, I used to hurl if I ever ate more than a tiny bit. I don't eat my birthday cakes if the main flavor is chocolate. I only eat chocolate when I'm depressed. Which is never.
Romantics worldwide hope I choke and die at night because I refused to bow down and worship their sacred day and romantic classics.
Humbug.
It's unnecessary, since I celebrate love 365 days a year, and 366 every leap year.
Valentine's Day is an excuse for my family to rent sappy movies about "love". This time it was Elizabethtown, and it starred Orlando Bloom and Kirsten Dunst. I never thought I'd find the sight of a woman clad in panties and a tight tee to be a turn off, but Kirsten Dunst proved me wrong. I pity the woman, Dunst is a horrible last name. But so is Bloom.
Elizabethtown started off real nice. Orlando Bloom was going to kill himself, my popcorn bowl was almost empty, and no one was sobbing. But then Orlando Bloom's character gets a phone call from his sister, and the movie goes from crappy to sappy.
I have a great idea. The movie should be remade so that Orlando Bloom boards the plane and meets Kirsten Dunst, but then a terrorist hijacks the plane and crashes it into Elizabethtown. I'll call it "The Tragic Five Minute Film of Two Actors with Pathetic Last Names who Can't Act if it Were To Save Their Lives".
It's not that I hate love stories. It's just that there are way-too-many of them. There are billions of people in the world today, most of whom have their personal love story. And that's not counting the billions of people who have lived. Plus all the sappy love movies Hollywood torments me with.
Speaking of love stories, yesterday I watched The Notebook. My family told me it was a great movie, so giving them the benefit of the doubt, I sat down. That night, I refused to sleep in my warm bed, wear my comfy pajamas, and cuddle my teddy bear. Instead, I chose to sleep on the living room couch in my t-shirt and boxers, just to be sure I wasn't losing any of my manly qualities after being exposed to sweet mush like that. As a precautionary measure, I also scratched my butt at random intervals and trained myself to drool on my soft pillow while I slept. Wait, did I say pillow? I meant armrest.
I don't like chocolate. As a child, I used to hurl if I ever ate more than a tiny bit. I don't eat my birthday cakes if the main flavor is chocolate. I only eat chocolate when I'm depressed. Which is never.
Romantics worldwide hope I choke and die at night because I refused to bow down and worship their sacred day and romantic classics.
10 February 2006
Feast and Sleep 10:49 AM
I throughly enjoyed this Feast.
If only I lived in a larger home. With lots of cute girls.
Yeah, we can't have everything we want.
But I got pretty darn close.
So I packed into those three days a good amount of Word time, all our required meetings, and way-too-much sleep.
The best thing about these days was that the Spirit was there, and you could really feel it.
Especially during the Loving Jesus night.
I'm telling you, Loving Jesus is hardcore.
This is the TJWL I received during the Loving Jesus night:
Thank you Jesus for your Words of Life!
If only I lived in a larger home. With lots of cute girls.
Yeah, we can't have everything we want.
But I got pretty darn close.
So I packed into those three days a good amount of Word time, all our required meetings, and way-too-much sleep.
The best thing about these days was that the Spirit was there, and you could really feel it.
Especially during the Loving Jesus night.
I'm telling you, Loving Jesus is hardcore.
This is the TJWL I received during the Loving Jesus night:
Dear Jesus, You are the most wonderful, anointed Lover I have ever been with. It's a joy being with You in every way. You are a joy to my spirit, a joy to my body, a joy that fills me through and through! It's always amazing to me how, even when I'm down, this joy from you never ceases. Even in the midst of discouragement and battles, that joy from You is always so pure and real.Neat thing is, it's almost exactly what I wanted to say to Jesus at the time.
I've experienced this joy for many years now, and it never ceases to amaze me how unfailing it is. You are always there! Always! You have always been with me in every facet and detail of my life. I praise and thank you for this, my great and wonderful Lover! I love you so very much, dear Lord! I love you so very much, my great and wonderful Love! You are truly my best Friend, my most faithful Lover, my greatest of all joys! I'm so grateful and happy with the endless Love You keep pouring into my heart!
I am most richly blessed. Imagine, Lord, being chosen to serve You in the greatest movement on earth! What love, that you have given me this beautiful life, living in this Heavenly Kingdom on earth! It's something that boggles my mind, and probably always will. How did this ever happen to little ol' me? You have given funny little ol' me so very, very much!
Thank you Jesus for your Words of Life!
05 February 2006
I Love This Shirt 12:00 PM
I figured out why people keep staring at my chest when I go out.
The way it is:
The way the Quebecois people see it:
If you don't get it, that's probably a good thing. I wouldn't want your mommy and daddy blaming me for your ability to swear in French.
The way it is:
The way the Quebecois people see it:
If you don't get it, that's probably a good thing. I wouldn't want your mommy and daddy blaming me for your ability to swear in French.